“Freeing yourself was one thing, claiming ownership of that freed self was another.” -Beloved
I’m sitting in a brightly lit room, with two strangers whom I can’t help but find myself loving, in a space I seem to love more than my own bedroom, holding a book that has loved me through my awkward adolescent years. In this space, in this moment, I am love, in its most complex, beautiful, and visceral state. Meditating with a magic mantra that only Toni Morrison could fabricate, I let this love envelop me, hold me, and rock me to ecstasy.
I remember the battles I’d fought in my head, tournaments of tug of war: “Solé, if you do this your parents will kill you!” “What if it ends up haunting you?” “What if the tape prevents you from getting a job” etc… etc….. But then I remember that all of me is mine. Who I am supposed to be (in the context of race and gender) has been dictated to me for as long as I can remember. I am habitually told what a woman can and cannot do, what Black people can and cannot do, what Blackness looks like, what it feels like, what we fuck like, what we love like. Manufactured understandings of race and gender have permeated the very essence of my being….So hear my roaring moan of protest listen as I publicly take back the parts of me that society continually tries to negate, marginalize, undermine, and ignore.. Understand that all of me is mine. My body, my soul, my voice, my clitoris, my uterus, my Blackness is mine and it is not up to you ( to society, to my family, to religion, to my friends) to decide what I can I cannot do with it, and it is not up to anyone, but me, to decide how and where I can display it.
So this is my revolutionary act of selfishness… my virtual picket sign… my one woman rally… my rebel yell… my sedentary march… a call for dialogue and understanding.. This is divine fierce feminine energy manifested.. an homage to the spirit of creativity and innovation that is Momma Morrison… This is a giant fuck you to the man who tried to colonize my own sexuality… a fuck you to patriarchy… to oppression… to gender roles… to group think… to racism… to sexism…to standards of beauty… This is a nod to Aphrodite… Yemeja… Mary… Tara… Kali…Xochiquetzal…Erzulie. This is a call to sisterhood…to the arts… to sexual liberation… to doing something you believe in…to fighting for something that you really believe in… to truly embody a life of positive obsession… But above all else this is a call to love….
I’m now sitting in a brightly lit room, with two people whom I now call friends, with a river of diamonds in between my thighs, and legs that have forgotten what gravity feels like. A smile heavy like wet goose feathers bounces around my face and I erupt into a billowing laugh that fills the room like fireflies. As I float back to earth, I am proud of my revolutionary act of selfishness and revel in its orgasmic goodness.
Beloved.. the one who Is loved… I love… I am love…
“Queen Clitoris” aka ” The Illegitimate child of Maya Deren and Frida Kahlo” aka “Brown Skinned Betty” aka “Queen Goddess of the Ratchets” aka “Sweet Baby Sunshine” more formally known as Solé
PS: To my parents ( who I know will read this), I hope that you are as proud of me as I am of myself. I pray that you see the merit, the revolution that I am a part of, the importance of this project. I pray that the whispers from conservative church folk will not seep into your psyche and that you’ll still love me as much as I have learned to love myself. Understand that I too am afraid… even though I bark a loud bark… I am vulnerable, and at times fear the worst… I hope that if I become weak from any public backlash that I’ll have your shoulders to lean on….